The Fourth Trimester : AKA The Hundred Days Of Darkness

From the moment we pee on that stick we know our lives are about to change. Whether it be our first child or whether it be our eighth, life as we know it will never be the same. We see our babies grow from a tiny mustard seed to a large watermelon, all the while anticipating the birth of this new little life. With every kick and turn our love for our unborn child grows and we count the days ’til we welcome them in our arms.

The birth is overwhelming, no matter which way our baby enters the world. Whether by caesar or natural delivery, our bodies experience a trauma like no other. The kind of trauma that soaks into our bones and becomes part of who we are. Maybe not for everyone but for most of us, our bodies undergo a huge amount of stress, pain and multiple levels of discomfort. And through all this pain, we meet our babies. We separate so that we can finally meet face to face.

And from the moment we meet them we are elated, as though on a super natural high. As though in a bubble of ecstasy than cannot be burst! From the second our eyes meet, adrenaline takes effect and our motherly instincts, as though by default, kicks in and we take on our new responsibility : To serve and protect. To protect our offspring with everything we have.

We experience an addiction like no other, craving their heavenly scent as though our lives depend on it. It’s an intoxicating kind of smell that leaves us dizzy and only needing more.

But after two weeks or so of bringing our newborn home from the hospital, the adrenaline starts to wear off. After the 14th night of interrupted sleep our body starts to take strain and we get your first little glimpse of darkness. At first it may just feel like a bright spotlight has gone out and been replaced by a dimmer – It happens ever so gradually. And we curse it away because we feel guilty and selfish. We tell ourselves to pull ourself together because it’s such a fleeting time and our greatest regret will be if we don’t enjoy Every. Single. Moment. So we keep quiet.

And another week goes by and we feel even more exhausted. Our energy levels are even more depleted. But we knew it would be like this and we tell ourselves again that we need to suck it up. Again, we keep quiet. The light dims a little more.

By 3 weeks our baby is experiencing cramps and becomes fussy every night for hours on end and nothing we do seems to ease their discomfort. We wonder how we are going to survive on 4 hours of very broken sleep again and for how much longer. The darkness creeps in.

By week four they are waking up to the world and as beautiful as this is, your baby does not want to be put down so you do what you said you never would. You become a baby wearer. And we walk our baby around the house day and night and spend hours rocking them to sleep. Only for them to wake up half an hour later. We are tired. So very tired. The last of the light has gone out and we are left feeling lonely, overwhelmed and too tired to even talk about it. We are in complete darkness now.

But we whisper to ourselves in the middle of the night, in those lonely dark hours, that it will soon all be over, so we better enjoy it. We better appreciate our blessings and get on with it. Blackness surrounds us.

Why? Because we can’t admit to our friends and partners that although we wanted this baby with every fibre of our being, the first three moths can be torture? Because if we admit we are taking strain it means we don’t have what it takes to be a good mom? Because if we admit that the darkness is real, we won’t ever see the light again?

At close to 11 weeks we are slowly making our way out of the 100 days of darkness. That chunk of time that most moms don’t really speak about openly. The Fourth Trimester, as specialist now refer to it as, where our babies are adjusting to life outside the womb and where we, as their mothers are their primary source of comfort as they try to do this.

A time where we are faced with things like colic, cramps, reflux, disruptive and confused sleep patterns, clinginess and feeding on demand. All while trying our utmost to find what brings them comfort, we are consumed by their every need. And as precious and beautiful as these first three months are, there are many moments where we find ourselves sinking. Overwhelmed. Defeated.

I think it’s time we talk about how hard it really is. It’s time we hold up a light of encouragement for each other so that the dark cloud can be lifted. My prayer for you is that each piece of encouragement becomes a flicker of light in an otherwise dark time, a reminder that through it all, we stand united as moms doing the most selfless job imaginable.

So from one tired mama to another, I’m not going to feed you another bullshit story about how you need to enjoy every single crappy moment of your baby’s first three months. But I am going to tell you this ; You are a champion and I salute you! For everything you are doing for your baby at this time I take my hat off to you. For all the late nights, the feeding on demand, the broken sleep and lonely times where you feel you are the only one awake with a baby who just won’t settle, think of me knowing I’m right in these trenches with you. We are one step closer to approaching the three month mark, where God-willing our babies become the happier and more manageable little humans we so desperately wish them to be.

And until then I will be drinking coffee with you as the sun rises and wine with you as the sun sets and I will be thinking of you in the middle of the night with a baby in your arms or at your breast. For you are not alone and we will soon reign victorious from these dark trenches of motherhood. We will soon be basking in the glorious light.

Love always,

Leigh xxx

Hi I’m Leigh! Did you enjoy reading this post? I really hope so and would love you to stick around a little longer! Please feel free to browse my blog for other articles or to keep up with all the latest news and to be the first to hear about some great competitions, come and find me me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. You can also email me directly at leeloobaggins@hotmail.com or simply subscribe below and never worry about missing out!

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4 Comments

Meredith on October 6, 2017 at 8:06 am

Hi Leigh, What a beautifully written column. I am so sorry that you have been going through a dark time. I promise, promise you that it will get better.

I am an older mom and had my miracle boy when I was 42. Was pre-menopausal, so, he came from a donor egg and hubby’s sperm. Our donor only managed to produce 7 eggs for us (which in fertility circles is very little), the reason he is my miracle boy is that out of the 7 eggs, only 2 managed to get fertilized, I was pregnant with twins up to 9 weeks, 9 weeks I lost the one, so he was my very last precious egg!

As it was my first pregnancy and because of all the risks with fertility, I was quite an anxious mom and when I couldn’t feel his heartbeat, would dash off to my gynae so that I could see that little heart beating on the scan, my gynae was very used to me just calling and rocking up!!

He also arrived 5 weeks early and was in NICU for the first 3 weeks of his life, I developed pre-eclampsia in the last month.

When I finally got him home, instead of being overjoyed, I had this awful feeling of dread, it was like someone had put a blanket over my head and body and I was walking around in darkness. I also had these dreams of my husband dying and leaving me with this tiny baby all on my own. Have never felt so alone in the world, as those early morning feeds in the darkness of the mornings. I felt that it was a never-ending dark express train I was on, that never stopped!

My mom-in-law (flew from overseas for his birth), thank god she was there, as hubby had to go back to work. She fed me, made sure that I bathed and washed my hair and between her and hubby forced me to see a psychiatrist who prescribed anti-depressants, after about 2 weeks of taking the drugs I woke up one morning to actually see and feel the sunlight for the first time since my miracle boy came home.

Leigh, life is hard, especially in today’s world of technology forcing us to be available 24/7. After a few months my mom said something to me, which I also TOTALLY forgot about, the fertility drugs that they pumped into me would have probably messed up my system, added to that the baby blues, no wonder I was feeling suicidal!!

I actually sent an email to my fertility specialist after about a year and told her that they need to mention the probable possibility that depression will occur, not in the small T&C’s at the bottom of the page, but highlighted in BOLD as you first enter the clinic!

Would I have gotten the baby blues if I hadn’t had the fertility treatment? Considering my age and my personality, I probably would have, but I also feel that not enough is written about it. Only in the past few years I have come to realise that we, as moms, are far to hard on ourselves, we have grown this little human in our bellies for 9 months, many of us went through a hectic labour to ensure the little human comes out in time, then we have to care for that little human, feed, bathe, soothe, and all the while running a house!

Then after 4 months we go back to work, but our lives have changed, yes, for the better, as we have more of a purpose in our step, but sometimes, just sometimes, we all deserve a break – to stand back and applause ourselves for all that we have done and continue to do.

I have gone on so much, and am sorry! Please know that you are not alone, I applaud your column, the more moms write about their experiences the more we can all be there for each other. I hope and pray that you continue to see and feel the sunlight on your face.

This post really resonated with me. I have just recently started reading your blog and can relate to everything you’re saying here. My baby is 2 weeks old now and it isn’t easy and its true no one talks about it so thank you for doing so and for being so honest. As Moms we’re doing the best we can and we deserve to be proud of ourselves because this motherhood thing is not for the faint hearted!

Thank you from the bottom of my 5th week darkened heart. I’m going through the 100d.o.d alone as my husband works away from home. And every time it gets harder I hear a voice saying: “You knew what you were getting yourself into”.

People tell me: “You are spoiling your baby by constantly holding him” and I keep my mouth shut because they aren’t there at all hours when he refuses to be put down.

Oh friend, I am four months out of this but this post brought me to tears – anxious tears as I remember those crazy dark days and tears of joy as I salute you for sharing your beautiful words and helping so many other mamas out there!